


Chekov X Reader - Red Shirt

by writeyouin



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: Based off this imagine, “Imagine Chekov running off the bridge, down to med bay once he’s heard that you were seriously hurt on a mission,” from thefandomimagine – http://thefandomimagine.tumblr.com/post/96727032204/submitted-by-thelyingpierrot.





	Chekov X Reader - Red Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this imagine, “Imagine Chekov running off the bridge, down to med bay once he’s heard that you were seriously hurt on a mission,” from thefandomimagine – http://thefandomimagine.tumblr.com/post/96727032204/submitted-by-thelyingpierrot.

You tugged at the hem of your red shirt, ready to beam down to the newly discovered planet for your next mission as security personnel. Chekov watched you apprehensively; with the recent increase in security deaths he had begun loathing your damned red shirt.

“Ready to beam down, Misfire?” Scotty asked, affectionately using the nickname you’d earned on your first mission; your phaser had jammed causing you to miss your target, most of the crew had called you Misfire ever since.

“Ready-” you began, only to be interrupted by Chekov who came barrelling over.

“Vait lyublyu ( _love_ ), you uh, you can’t go,” he panicked.

“Because…” you prompted.

“Because Dr McCoy needs you for your physical,” he lied.

“Really? McCoy said that? That’s funny considering my physical was an hour ago.”

“I– Vell he– uh–”

“Pavel, sweetie, you want to tell me what this is about?”

Chekov sighed, his shoulders drooped sadly, and his brow furrowed anxiously, “You’re vearing a red shirt.”

“Say what now?”

“On missions zhe ones wearing zhe red shirts die.”

“Aww sweetie,” you cooed, rubbing his arm sympathetically, “That’s what this is all about, the red shirt myth? That’s all it is babe; a myth. Look, red shirts are security, it’s our job to put others’ safety above our own; if that means getting scuffed up a bit in the process then so be it but I’m not going to die.”

“You can’t promise zhat.”

“No, I can’t. Think of it this way though, I’ve been on at least 100 missions and returned alive, right? So today I’ going to beam down, rendezvous with the Captain, do my job, and make it 101 successful missions.”

Chekov’s soulful, puppy-like eyes bore into you, then with a notable reluctance he nodded, stepping away from the teleporter. You blew him a kiss, following up with a nod in Scotty’s direction, signalling him to beam you down; something he did with expert precision.

* * *

Chekov sped off the bridge in a cold sweat, the elevator doing nothing for his nerves as he fought his way over to the medical bay. Kirk had called only moments ago to tell him the bad news; that you had been stabbed while fending off an attacker on the planets’ surface.

Petrified chanting echoed through Chekov’s thoughts like some form of demented mantra, “ _It was the red shirt, that cursed red shirt._ ”

When he finally reached med-bay he felt even more helpless and dismayed as McCoy came out to deny him entrance.

“I need to see (Y/N),” Chekov demanded.

“You  **need**  to wait here,” McCoy ordered, “I need to work on (Y/N)’s injuries and I can’t do that it you’re in there running about like a bull in a china shop, you hear me?”

Chekov heard but he wished he hadn’t, he wanted to be in there, holding your hand and telling you that everything was going to be okay; instead all he could do was nod, leaving McCoy to his work, while he paced restlessly outside med-bay.

* * *

McCoy left the med-bay two hours later to retrieve Chekov who was curled up by the door with his head in his hands.

“(S)he’s ready to see you now,” McCoy informed, instantly gaining Chekov’s undivided attention.

Chekov rushed into the room, instant relief washed over him when he saw you talking to Nurse Chapel who, upon seeing him, moved tactfully away, leaving the two of you alone.

“Hi sweetie,” you grinned, as if nothing had happened.

He ran over, hugging you tightly but quickly recoiled when he heard your pained groans, “Sorry lyublyu ( _love_ ), sorry,” he apologised, on the brink of tears.

“No problem babe, just gotta watch out for the stab wound,” you showed him the bandage below your ribs.

“V-Vhat happened?”

“Guy threatened me and I, very sarcastically, said ‘What are you gonna do, stab me?’ Yes, the answer was yes. People always did say that my big mouth would get me in trouble one day,” you laughed; Chekov failed to see the funny side of the situation. You cleared your throat and continued, “Hey, it’s okay, besides Bones says that I’ll be on my feet by the end of the day, right Bones?”

“Don’t you dare try it (Y/N), you’re on bedrest for a week,” McCoy reprimanded.

You waved him off impatiently, “A week, a day, whatever.”

Chekov couldn’t take his eyes off you; he just couldn’t get used to your unusually pale complexion or the way you winced when you moved, “It vas the shirt,” he murmured.

“You’re not still banging on about that bloody shirt are you? Babe, if anything the shirt is red so the bad guys can’t see me bleed.”

Once again Chekov remained straight faced at your joke, your features softened, “Okay, what can I do to make this better?”

“Leave security,” he begged.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Vhy not?”

“Pavel, you wouldn’t stop doing your job just because of one bad day, so you can’t expect me to. What I can do is learn from my mistakes, train harder for my next mission, and improve my reaction time; is that enough?”

Chekov sighed deeply, knowing it was the best you could offer, he caressed the side of your face gently, “It’s enough lyublyu ( _love_ ), ya lyublyu tebya ( _I love you_ ).”

“I love you too sweetheart.”


End file.
